Title Fic
by seaglasssoul
Summary: I Spy: Fanfic Edition. An ongoing project wherein I'll try to cram as many of my favorite fic titles into silly stories as a paltry offering of gratitude for their existence.


A/N: There are 22 fic titles hidden here. Good luck! (Reminder that looking at my favs list is cheating!)

* * *

If only tonight he could sleep.

Thunder crashes overhead as Soul tosses frustratedly in his bed, sleep elusive as always. A clash of lightnings cascades above his window and he sits up in defeat. No use staring at the ceiling all night.

He shuffles into the kitchen, hoping that some food will help soothe him enough to fall asleep. Jars tinkle and lids pop as he manages to salvage the leftover meatloaf into a sandwich, leaning against the counter while he munches because Maka isn't here to tell him to sit at the table. _Maka._ He pauses mid-chew to stare wistfully at her bedroom door, the lack of light beneath it feeling all the colder because she's not even sleeping.

She's away with her papa on "family business," and that's all he got out of her before she was out the door and out of range for silent communication. It's been three days and it physically hurts him how much he craves the comfort of her soul brushing his when she's checking up on him, or the way she always seems to know when he needs some Not-Cuddling on the couch.

Soul isn't left to brood for long; while he's licking the last of the ketchup off his fingers, a loud banging on the front door nearly makes him choke on his own spit. He sprints to answer it, hoping that Maka's back and life can go back to normal.

The last person he expects to see is Black*Star. Grinning from ear to ear, he bounces into the apartment and throws an arm around Soul's shoulders. "Bruh, you're comin' with me. There was an explosion near the warehouses and we have got to check it out!"

"An explosion," Soul says skeptically.

"Yeah, yanno, fire! And light!"

"Fire and light," Soul deadpans.

"Well there's sound and stuff blowing up too, but now you're just being difficult," Black*Star says, rolling his eyes. "C'mon loverboy, you've been mopey for days. I know you miss Maka but it's bro time now."

"We are not lovers!" Soul sputters, hoping Black*Star takes his blush as indignation and not the forbidden "sappy mushy shit."

Black*Star rolls his eyes again and taps his foot impatiently. "We all know you wanna do the nakey shakey with her. So we going or what?"

Soul sighs, knowing from his tone that Black*Star isn't going to take 'no' for an answer. "Fine. Couldn't sleep anyway."

Black*Star cackles, slapping his knee. "Poor, unfortunate Soul; need me to read you some bedtime stories? Maybe kiss you goodnight?"

"Shove it, Star," Soul says as he dodges the kissy face invading his personal space. Grabbing his keys from the coffee table, he heads for the door and hopes Black*Star will stop bs-ing him enough to follow.

Thankfully he does, and it takes Soul until he's standing in front of the motorcycle to realize that Black*Star will have to hold onto him like Maka does while he drives. He takes a moment to mourn the sanctity of the motorcycle ride, but Black*Star is impatient and prods him in the back with a finger. "Oy, Soul, what's the holdup?"

He grumbles, "You're gonna have to hold on to me with your sweaty hands; can you blame me for needing a minute to prepare?"

Black*Star grins and replies, "It's not like we're strangers! Just the two of us." He pauses, eyes sparkling gleefully. "Just the two of us~" he sings, "We can make it if we tryyyy, just the two of us - you and IIIIIIIII."

Soul slowly drags a hand down his face. It's going to be a long night.

* * *

They arrive at the warehouse district in one piece, no thanks to Black*Star's enthusiastic backseat serenade of _Bad Romance_ and _Love Game_. "So where's this explosion?" Soul asks once they find a secure-ish spot for his motorcycle.

"Let's find out! There's gotta be like, broken glass and dead bodies and stuff."

Soul groans. Dead bodies. Of course.

They walk along the forested side of the warehouses, budding trees gently swaying in the post-storm breeze. The first two buildings are sealed shut, but the third has a broken window that Black*Star gestures to excitedly. After awkwardly clambering through (why did he have to get so tall during puberty), Soul takes a look around. Holes in the aluminum ceiling allow moonlight to cast eerie spotlights on decaying boxes and broken plywood, dust thick as the powdered sugar he likes on diner waffle specials.

Black*Star walks over to investigate a pile of boxes. "Hey c'mere, I think I found something," he says after a minute of rifling through its contents. While Soul tries not to trip over old wires and rotting wood, Black*Star holds up a small cannister to the moonlight. "'Contents under pressure,'" he reads aloud. "Huh. Wonder what that means." Shrugging, he tosses it over his shoulder.

"Star, what the hell are you doing?!" Soul whispers furiously at the metallic clang of the cannister hitting the ground. "Didn't you just say that had contents under pressure? That means it can EXPLODE."

Black*Star's face lights up. "Oh sweet! Lemme find another one, maybe that's what caused the explosion." Fishing around in the same box, he pulls out a new cannister and examines it closely. After a moment, he passes it to Soul with a serious face and says, "Dude, do you know what this is?"

Soul twists it around in his hands for a bit before shaking his head. "Am I supposed to?"

Black*Star pulls him down to his level to whisper, "This is the shit they've been talking about around town; they're calling it the new gateway drug. Amplify, I think it's called. Apparently it can really mess with resonance rates but it gives the user a week-long high."

Soul takes a step back. "A whole week? Isn't there anything to reverse it?"

Black*Star shakes his head. "Nah man, nothing can undo it. Once it's in your system, it's in, and it's super addictive. Leads to all sorts of other shit."

Frowning, Soul glances around and says, "D'you think we found a dealer's supply? We should probably get out of here in case someone's watching. No way in hell am I gonna get beat up because you wanted to see an explosion."

Black*Star puffs out his chest and declares, "My body is a lethal weapon! Ain't nobody gonna mess with me 'n my boy tonight and get away with it."

Soul sighs. Black*Star may be a little cocky and brash sometimes, but his saving grace is his absolute loyalty to friends. "Yeah, okay, I'd still rather not have to fight anyone. Let's go home for now."

Black*Star dips down into another box instead and says, "Look! I'm Bob!" He wiggles a nametag on his chest and pushes a dusty pair of glasses up the bridge of his nose. "File this in cabinet five, Soul," he drones, handing him a sheaf of yellowing papers.

"I'm so tired of this dust and your fake office shenanigans; can we go now please?" Soul says irritably. He's finally tired and another sleepless night without Maka is catching up to him.

"All right, all right, let's split."

They clamber out through the same window they came in, landing quietly on the dirt below. Small paper boats float on a pothole-created pond between two warehouses, and Soul finds it oddly soothing.

They're just about to reach his bike when a branch snaps and two men hop down from a nearby tree. "Look what we got here," one says, sneering. "Couple a nosy guys who don't know how to mind their own business."

Soul and Black*Star stop walking. Soul glances between the two men, one with long gloves and a nose piece and the other mousey with an expressive mouth. He squares up into a fighting stance, not positive that Black*Star could wield him effectively in a fight.

The mousy one barks out a laugh. "Oh, wanna fight huh? You don't look like much, and neither does your short friend."

Black*Star bristles at this, growling, "Hey, I'm not short! I could whoop both your asses with my hands behind my back!"

The one with the nose piece chuckles, pulling out a flask and taking a swig. "That's a load of shit. Sharkboy and tiny dick over here don't have two balls between 'em to give us a good fight."

Soul has to put a hand on Black*Star's shoulder to keep him from lunging at the man. It wouldn't be smart to dive in without some semblance of a plan. But Black*Star shrugs it off and steps forward, yelling, "I'll show YOU a load–"

"STAR, NO!" Right as Black*Star had moved forward, Soul saw the flashing lights of police cars and knew they had to scram. The two men swear loudly when they catch the faint sirens in the distance and snarl, "You got lucky this time," before disappearing into the woods.

"Let's get out of here," Soul says urgently, hopping onto his bike and gesturing for Black*Star to hurry up. Star is still grumbling about what the men had said, but Soul doesn't have it in him to be empathetic at the moment. "We're gonna be in serious shit if we don't leave ten minutes ago, so would you _please get on the fucking motorcycle?_ "

Black*Star huffs but climbs on, mumbling, "So much for that 'a sound soul' crap."

Soul just grinds his teeth and drives. Maka is going to be so mad if he ends up in jail.

Luckily they manage to sneak past the cops by sticking close to houses in the area and taking side streets, and when Soul finally gets home he simply falls onto the couch face-first and stops moving. Black*Star had hopped off his bike when they were close to his apartment, and the silence is both welcome and strange.

He shimmies his phone out of his pocket and glances at the time - 4:58 AM - before staring at the background image of Maka smiling sweetly. Red eyes bleed into green as his vision blurs and all he can see is the vague LED color of her eyes before sleep takes him at last.


End file.
